Our Birth Story…
This is my version of the story, not the only version—but my version.
On Tuesday, April 5th, at 3:30 Farah and I decided we would go to work on reducing our mortgage at our bank. So we sat through a long, boring session where we discussed the options for our future. I noticed Farah was uncomfortable sitting down while we were there and would take long, abdominal breaths every ten minutes or so. I suggested she walk or go to the bathroom.
After our unsuccessful meeting (I mean, they were going to save us $30 a month and charge us a higher rate), we came home. Farah decided to lay down on the sofa, and things started to pick up. I started timing her contractions around 4:30, but didn’t start writing things down until her contractions spread out to about 8 minutes apart.
While sitting there, I realized… This is it! I encouraged her to breathe and asked questions, “Is it better to be distracted?” “What are you feeling?” “Should I tell you when you are almost done with a contraction?”
This went on, and then she decided to go to the bathroom. There, she had an intense contraction that lasted approximately 5 minutes. At this point, I thought we were doomed. I didn’t think she could do it naturally, but I kept my mouth shut. I eventually told her she could do it and I knew she would be fine—I lied.
After a few more contractions, I realized she could do it and I was ready to be there through the whole labor. We timed the contraction, invited the Coulters over (they brought dinner), and relaxed watching the evening news. RIP Katie and Arturo...
As the Coulters left and we started in on our Jamba Juice and potato soup, I decided it was time to call in to work and get Beth to be my sub for the remainder. I wouldn’t return for a week and two days. We started noticing the contractions were coming more frequently. Farah called Barb, then about twenty minutes later I called her again to tell her we were in the thick of it and would shower before the birth. At this point, upstairs I knew Farah was in the game.
Watching Farah labor, I was so proud of her and amazed at how well prepared we both were. I reminder her to breathe or counted down the time she would have before the worst was over. I remember telling her (guessing) when the contraction would come down and passing her water and Jamba Juice to drink in between contractions. She liked me to rub her butt (sorry, true fact), but didn’t like me to touch her lower legs—and she hated me touching her stomach.
Barb arrived and I let out a sigh of relief. At that point I felt our team was together and we could do this. Farah lay down on her side and the contractions came in rather heavy. I saw Farah cry and I started to tear up a little bit. At 9:00pm Farah said, “I think we should go to the hospital.” Barb encouraged us to wait, but 10 minutes later I knew it was time—the contractions were 3 minutes apart and at one point 2 minutes. I remember holding up two fingers to Barb, my eyebrows raised, thinking, “Are we going to have this baby here or in the hospital?!”
There was a point where we didn't think we could make it downstairs, until Barb reminded us we could take it one step at a time.
We walked downstairs and Farah, in the midst of a contraction, said, “Michael, don’t forget to get yourself some water.” Amazing. Barb laughed at Farah’s consideration for me when she was in pain. I marveled.
We got in the car. I drove about 45 to 50 mph down the neighborhood streets and at least 75 on the freeway. We arrived to the ER entrance where we were greeted by a nurse walking. I shouted, “She’s in labor. 3 minutes apart.” She ran and got a security guard with a wheelchair for Farah. They rolled us in. I left the car in the ER pull up spot.
We sat in the waiting room for at least 10 minutes. I was a little aggravated at the staff’s loud and inconsiderate tone, “Sign this. Is this your first?… Blah blah blah.”
Once we were on our way to Labor and Delivery, Farah looked like she was totally in the game--see I thought she was earlier, but now this was REAL. We had to stop at least two times on the way up. And we parked outside the Labor & Delivery Desk for a minute or two.
We were greeted by Holly and then were introduced to Eva, who would later deliver Westly. I was excited to see within the first five minutes of us being there they had already pulled up our birth plan and posted it on the mirror for all to see. They greeted us and gave us more options than we thought we had—if patocin was needed we could get it in an IV form or a shot. Either was fine, but we wouldn't need either of them. The use of the tub was there and our nurse, Eva, used counter pressure to assist in the labor.
Barb moved the cars around while Farah got her Hep-Lock just to prove we weren't totally hippy. We talked about the pain and Farah was checked to see how far along she was. 8 cm.We cheered.
At this point, Eva offered the tub to Farah. She wanted it. While it filled up and Farah moved over to the tub, I asked Eva how long she expected the birth to take. She estimated Westly would be here by 1:30 am.
The next two hours RUSHED by. Farah sat in the tub with the Jacuzzi jets running and was even monitored in the tub. It was good to see her relax. But I was coming down off of the emotional high. I felt some heartburn and got rather dizzy. Totally a Michael situation. I told Barb to sit with Farah in the bathroom while I took a quick 10 T.O.
Before I knew it, it was around 1 am and Farah was ready to get out of the tub and I was cleaning up some goop that was—well, leaking out. After this, the time went by so very quickly. Farah screamed, “I fell the urge! I need to push!” and buckled her body as she pushed and screamed like I’ve never heard her scream before. I stood there like a wreck. Barb and Eva took charge as I held Farah's hand and I supported in holding legs and whatever else I could do.
When Farah screamed her mighty scream, three additional nurses came in, making our total 7. They asked if everything was OK, we reassured them it was fine, but Eva and Barb had a quick pep talk with Farah about the birth and pushing.
14 minutes later, a heavenly multitude of colors later, and a lot of old-fashioned girl power pushing, there he was! WESTLY CAVANAUGH SHAW the love of our lives!
One of my first memories of him was us saying, "Dimples! He has dimples!" The next two hours were just about us. They left us alone and Farah took a shower as Westly got his first bath from Eva and myself.
Happy Birthday, Mini-Doodle. We love you.